


All Our Days

by Leotto



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leotto/pseuds/Leotto
Summary: Collection of one shot drabbles for 91 days feels.
Relationships: Angelo Lagusa | Avilio Bruno & Nero Vanetti, Angelo Lagusa | Avilio Bruno/Nero Vanetti, Corteo & Angelo Lagusa | Avilio Bruno
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

He is looking at this man's back. Half a step behind to keep the man's movement perpetually in his line of sight, but give him enough clearance to watch everything around them. The place of a bodyguard. A place of trust. The hands in the pocket of his large coat twitches once, before he can calm himself. Now is not the time. He waited seven years. He can wait another seven days until everything else falls in place.

Nero looks over his shoulders at him and beams that large smile of his. "So, what do you want for breakfast?" He is talking about something as simple as what to eat, while he spends all of his time angry, lost, forgotten, and hollow. It serves him just fine. It is easier to put a mask on a smooth eroded surface than one with an expression.

"Something sweet." He tells him, with a small smirk that's hardly noticeable.

Nero notices. "I can't understand how you can eat something as sweet as dessert for breakfast. That's child's food. Are you not a man, Avilio?" He sends a gibe back at him, knowing it will be well received.

"If all it takes to be a man is to eat bitter things, then you should try eating your own words and grow up." He deadpans right back at him, searching his pocket for a cigarette and a light.

Nero laughs heartily, and throws an arm around his shoulders and pulls Avilio close to his side.

"I would tell you to watch your tongue if I didn't like you so much." Then he steers them both towards a diner that makes a good fluffy pancake and serves it with maple syrup.

They sit at the diner and soon he eats without a worry on his mind. He smiles and laughs like there isn't a care in the world for him. He holds his tongue from saying or betraying any reckless ideas. He cuts up a slice of pancake drenched in maple syrup and takes a bite.

It tastes like blood.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes he acts too old to be a nineteen year old. He's calm, collected and calculative. He could probably rival Barbero in bookkeeping if he lets him, but he prefers to have his quick wits on the street. He doesn't talk about himself much, and doesn't seem to have a hobby. Avilio's pretty good with cards and nimble with his fingers, but he believes these are skills born from necessity, not greed.

He glances up from the papers he is inspecting and looks at the young man from the corner of his eyes. The look on his face is undecipherable as he blows smoke into the room that's already plenty musty.

"You're smoking up the entire office, you know. Someone's gonna run in here with a bucket of water, any minute now." Only then he looks up at him with those impossible eyes and gets up from the couch.

Avilio walks towards him, cigarette stilling hanging in the corner of his mouth, and both his hands in his pocket. He holds his gaze and watches his careful and silent steps closing the distance between them. The boy puts one hand on the desk and leans over, removing the cigarette now turned into a stub from his mouth. His face is close enough to Nero that he can smell the scent of tar and mint directly from his breath. He opens his mouth to speak and a wisp of white disperses into the air, making him look like some kind of mythical creature.

"And you are blocking the only window in this room."

Looking back at him in disbelief, he wants to say something for the cheek of it, but he finds himself unable to speak. He feels he is caught in something very sharp, dangerous and enticing in the way Avilio looks at him right now. Small smirk he only ever seems to show him appears and Nero pushes his chair away from his desk, opening the way for the young man to walk around and reach the window.

He opens the window, and lets out the scent, smoke and the moment from the room. Watching the boy's hair frame his face and his slightly too large shirt bristling about him in the wind, he thinks Avilio may disappear just like that and it won't surprise him.

When he turns back, he smells like the fresh air and his neutral expression returns. Like a doll with a layer of paint washed off. He sits down on the couch and takes out his knife, checking the edges and playing around with it.

Nero goes back to reading the papers he needs to sign off on before Barbero descends on him, and wonders why he let Avilio get away with it yet again.


	3. Chapter 3

Thick scent of fermenting malt fills the air. He walks among the rows and rows of barrels, clogging up the sizable area. The natural heat from the process turns the brewery hot in some places, almost to the point of boiling. He wipes the beading brow with the back of his hand, and returns his attention to the sample at hand. The production is coming along nicely.

He was a little hesitant when he was told to mass produce for the big names, but when it comes to the intricate details of brewing, he knows what he's doing. He takes pride in his work, though technically it's illegal at the moment.

He hears a little hubbub by the entrance and notices a group of people visiting. He notices Angelo and waves to him. He locks eyes with him and raises two fingers quickly, but his attention soon returns to the man at his side.

Corteo takes the sign and returns to his work, trying to resist the urge to keep glancing at the visitors and wondering what they are talking about. They ask him questions time to time, but it's mostly about the production schedule and the taste of the alcohol. They don't let him in on any of the important details of their operation. He doesn't even have to try. He knows Angelo won't tell him either, and give him the look that says 'it's for your own good'.

He clutches the clipboard a little too hard and hears the wood crack under his grip. The wood splinters and pricks his finger. He yelps at the small amount of blood he has drawn. The wound isn't big at all, but a fragment of sharp wood embedded between his skin is causing him all the discomfort.

He isn't bleeding and dying from the wound, but he can't get rid of the ache without opening the wound larger to remove the offending article.

A conundrum.

Corteo locks eyes with Nero who was looking over the stockpile with a pleased look on his face. The man smiles and waves at him. His lips twitch awkwardly and he avoids the gaze.

He really doesn't know what Angelo is thinking, dragging on the affairs for so long, and getting involved this deep. He's probably one of the few, if not the only person left alive who can see his best friend's true emotions and what he sees worries him.

It worries him whenever he sees the small smirk appear on Avilio's mouth whenever he banters with the man he calls his boss now. It worries him when Avilio stands a little bit closer to the man than yesterday. It worries him when Avilio cracks a little and Angelo comes through, when that man offers him his hand laden with friendship; the hand that continues to hurt him even after all these years.

Whatever business they needed to tend to must be done. Nero and his lackeys leave the brewery. Angelo is among them, and he doesn't turn back to wave Corteo good night.

The heat in this place is intoxicating and suffocating him. He clutches the clipboard close to his chest, and winces at the renewed pain of the splinter that has dug itself in deeper.

**Author's Note:**

> Ven, this is for you.


End file.
